


Ab Aeterno, Ad Infinitum

by elena0206



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Acceptance, Blood and Injury, Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Feelings, First Kiss, Hannigraham - Freeform, Hannigram - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Medical Procedures, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Finale, Protective Hannibal, Running Away, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 16:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4712105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elena0206/pseuds/elena0206
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ab Aeterno. Beyond time and existence, ripped from eternity."</p><p>Will and Hannibal survive their fall and run away together. This is a continuation of "The Wrath of the Lamb", the season 3 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ab Aeterno

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to write it because I don't know how to cope with the finale. As per request, there will be more of this story. Enjoy!

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_ab aeterno_

_from the most remote antiquity_

_Song:_ [ _https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qa3CIMEYdXo_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qa3CIMEYdXo)

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Hannibal surrendered. Will surrendered. Each surrendered to the other. Both surrendered to themselves. Irony tingling taste of blood, infinitely dark sky, night twitching in the moon’s pale womb, and warmth… the heavenly, bodily warmth of an anguished embrace.

“It’s beautiful.” And indeed it was. There’s beauty in living, and there’s beauty in dying, but nothing is as beautiful as plunging out of life with the one you would die for, knowing they would do the same for you.

The animal kingdom, the plants, the minerals, the jungles, the slugs and snails, the iron and gold, the innocence of a wolf and the wrath of a lamb… all devoid of meaning. Ever-changing seasons, weather systems, the gravity pull, the bluff eroding, the moonlight pouring into open wounds. For a glimpse of a second they were above all else. Above the ocean, above the sky, above wavy time unfolding beneath them. _Ab Aeterno_. Beyond time and existence, ripped from eternity. 

And then they fell, and they kept on falling, rolling down through the harsh air, dislocating reality with their ravished bodies. They were holding onto each other with desperate grips, limbs tangling and blood mixing. Hannibal became aware of the severity of their situation. He had to make sure they were falling in water without hitting any rocks. He had to make sure Will was protected from the shock. With a preterhuman effort, he twisted in air and pulled his body so that he would hit water first.

Will opened his eyes and stared into Hannibal’s in a moment of understanding and acceptance. If their fate was to die together, clenched in a passionate embrace, so be it. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Hannibal however was vigorously clinging to life, fighting for his life and fighting for Will’s life, fighting for both of them. The air was violently hissing, and Hannibal could feel the smell of salty water. They were close. He took a deep breath, his lungs filling up with clean and cold air, his chest enlarging. He was ready.

They hit the water and broke the surface tension, diving in rapidly. The sound of wind and waves stopped, being replaced with a low rumble. Hannibal opened his eyes and looked around. The water was dark and cold and stinging. His wound was burning in pain. Hannibal was still holding onto Will, but the latter seemed to be unconscious, floating motionlessly.

Hannibal had to hurry up and bring Will to the surface. If the shock of the impact had not killed them – and it hadn’t, the pain felt real – then the cold water would. Everything around them was dark and blurry and Hannibal had to let go of the air he was holding inside. He watched the bubbles of air go up and he followed them towards the surface, while holding Will with one of his arms. The water was ice cold, Will was heavy, and Hannibal felt exhausted, but he had to keep on moving, keep on fighting. The sharp pain he felt was a memento of the fact that he was _alive,_ and so was Will, and Hannibal would not let anything change that. _Ab Aeterno_ , beyond life and death. The two of them.

He pulled a strong breath in, air tumbling down his trachea and into his lungs. It hurt – the pain of being alive. He reached shallow water and dragged Will’s unmoving body on the shore, before collapsing next to him.

Hannibal was lying down on his side, watching Will. His face was pale, and his lips violet. The water cleaned them of blood other than their own. Hannibal extended his arm and reached to Will’s neck. He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand pressing firmly on Will’s throat. It was all so quiet and peaceful, as if time stood still for them, allowing them a moment of peace.

Will had a weak pulse, but he was not breathing. Hannibal got up as if he was never hurt in the first place. He kneeled down, grabbed Will’s head and pulled it back, extending his neck. He covered the nostrils with his index finger and thumb, with his palm pressing Will’s forehead. He put the other index and middle finger on Will’s chin, pushing it backwards so that his neck stayed extended and mouth open. Hannibal straightened his back, took a full breath in and bent over Will. His open mouth covered Will’s lips as he blew the air from his lungs into Will’s. He rose again, counted to three and repeated.

Will was still unconscious, and Hannibal knew that if his heart had stopped beating, it would have been almost impossible to bring him back to life. He couldn’t lose him now.

“Come on, Will…” Hannibal whispered. He continued trying to resuscitate him, each time more fearful, as Will was unresponsive.

“Don’t you die on me…”

A single tear rolled out of Hannibal’s eye and down his cheek. He was desperately trying to pull Will out of death’s claws.

Will gasped for air and started spitting out the salty water of the ocean. Hannibal turned his head to the side, so he wouldn’t choke. Will was finally breathing again, and Hannibal was smiling.

After he threw up all water he had swallowed, Will lifted himself from the ground and stared at Hannibal. He looked happy. After Will pushed them both off the cliff and towards an inevitable death, Hannibal still managed to find the force to carry them both to the shore, to save Will, and to smile.

“We died,” Will whispered, still panting.

“And we were born again,” Hannibal completed. He saw the moonlight and the stars trembling pale in Will’s eyes. He put one hand on the back of his neck, and another on the side of his face, with his thumb caressing his cheek. Will was alive, in blood, flesh, skin and bones.

Will allowed Hannibal to touch him without pulling back. He was not surprised by the fact that they were still alive, both of them. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, he knew they would survive. It just felt so surreal to have Hannibal in front of him, unthreateningly vulnerable. He put a hand Hannibal’s chest and felt his heartbeat, a reminder of his humanity. With the other hand, he grabbed his shoulder and pulled him closer.

Lips hovered over lips, with heavy and warm breaths meeting in between. Hannibal looked into Will’s eyes, unsure how much closer they could get. Sensing his doubt, Will opened his mouth slightly and pressed it onto Hannibal’s in an almost lifeless kiss.

Blood, open wounds, and pain. Wind, waves, and cold sand. Will and Hannibal embracing each other -- reborn, rebuilt, restored.  

Will rested his head on Hannibal’s chest. Nobody had to die anymore. The sacrifice was made, their sins dissolving in water. They died in the ocean, and they emerged from the ocean. Time did not reverse, but it did forgive and forget.

_“Till death do us part.”_


	2. A caelo usque ad centrum

_\----------------------------------------------------------------_

_a caelo usque ad centrum_

_from the sky to the centre of the earth_

_Song:<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ywL_zokELE>_

_\----------------------------------------------------------------_

“ _Till death do us part,_ ” Hannibal whispered into Will’s ear. Soft, tender, affectionate. Sincere. A trembling shiver emerged from Will’s stomach and spread through his body with feverish spasms, until the tips of his fingers, the tips of his toes, the tips of his nerves, making him shake with fervor. It was not the wind, or cold water, or wet sand, or painful wounds. It was Hannibal. Hannibal made Will shiver, Hannibal and his deep voice whispering his courtly vow into Will’s ear, pouring it into his heart.

Hannibal felt Will’s warm shiver and his flesh quivering against his own. He closed his eyes, and blocked everything around them from his mind. The world was a ballroom, and they were dancing atop of it. Arcades too fragile to hold their heavy dance were breaking down and stumbling into the abyss. And they were on top of it all, ever-so-graceful rhythms among lucid notes.

Hannibal wanted to feel Will wholly. He wanted to absorb him into himself. Merge his entire being with his own. The passion he felt for Will was a consuming flame. Giving light and warmth, the same flame could burn down and grind to ashes. Will was fuel for his forever blazing inner torch. Hannibal blocked the sound of the roaring ocean and of the wheezing wind. There was place only for Will into his mind, and Will had place only for Hannibal into his own. Their embrace was intimate and comforting, with arms wrapped up around each other’s torso, fingers grabbing onto flesh. They felt warm and tired, slowly drifting away into gratifying capitulation.  

“We have to go,” Hannibal informed Will, with sadness in his voice, as if that place, that patch of wet sand, was where they found peace of mind and serenity.

“Go where?” Will asked, raising his eyebrows doubtfully.

“I have a place not too far from here.”

Will chuckled. “Of course you do.” Hannibal always had everything under control; he would always pull a card from his sleeve whenever necessary. No matter how vicious the storm, he would always reach the shore.

Hannibal realized he hadn’t seen Will smiling in a long time. Just as he was smiling on that memorable day when they met in Florence.

“Do you trust me, Will?” Hannibal asked and pulled himself away from the embrace just a little bit, just enough so that he could see Will’s reaction clearly.

“I do,” Will answered, with bright and candid eyes. In another life, perhaps he would have taken a long time to think about it, and even so would have given a hesitant answer. But not in that new life of theirs. Not ever again. It became clear for him that he trusted Hannibal more than anyone else. When they first met, Will was broken, fine pieces missing from all over. Hannibal made him whole again. The teacup did not gather itself back together, but a skillful hand repaired it with gold. Kintsugi. Scars mending pieces together.

“Wholeheartedly?”

“Thoroughly.”

Hannibal’s face lightened up as a reaction to Will’s confession of trust. He slowly rose up like a hurt animal and pressed a hand on his bullet wound. The bleeding had stopped, but Hannibal was still feeling uneasy about their injuries, especially about Will’s. He was wondering if his lung had been punctured when the knife went through his chest. Some of the symptoms such as bluish lips and skin, rapid and irregular breathing, and fatigue were visible, and Hannibal was aware that if it were the case, Will would require intense medical attention, and nothing that he could have done with his bare hands would have saved Will. The cheek injury was not as threatening as the chest one, but it could have led to serious infections as well.

Hannibal remembered that earlier the same day he had told Will not to worry so much, and it looked like Will listened to his advice. He didn’t seem to worry at all, being as passive as he could get. But Hannibal knew just how dangerous their situation actually was.

“Take your clothes off, please.”

“Oh…” Will was taken by surprise, not expecting such a bold request from Hannibal. He frowned and his gaze drifted up to Hannibal’s body.

“We are in a high risk of hypothermia right now,” Hannibal explained, making Will feel slightly embarrassed because that was not the first thought that crossed his mind when he had been asked to undress. “These drenched clothes won’t do us any good. We would be much safer if we got rid of them,” he continued. Of course it made sense, but Will couldn’t stop thinking that Hannibal purposefully misled him for a moment, just to see his reaction.

Will nodded in agreement and unbuttoned his dress shirt, while Hannibal pulled his sweater off, and layer by layer they stripped off their wet clothes, keeping just the shoes and underwear on. The vile circumstances pushed them into a type of physical intimacy that they were not ready for. Not yet.

“We have about twenty minutes of walking from here,” Hannibal said as he was folding their clothes. It would have been a foolish mistake to leave them there for Jack and the FBI to find.

“Do you think you can manage, Will?” he asked, his voice trembling with concern as he pronounced Will’s name.

“Do I have a choice?”

“You have always had a choice.” Hannibal put his hand on Will’s shoulder.

“I choose… this.” Will gestured an invisible bridge between him and Hannibal with his hand.   

“And so do I,” Hannibal confessed, the corners of his mouth twitching in a vague smile.

The two men started walking, each holding an arm around the other’s shoulders, relying on each other, both physically and emotionally. They left the beach, climbed a slope up on the cliff again, and walked through the woods, getting deeper and denser, and eventually losing themselves among the trees. The cold fresh smell of pine triggered a distant memory of home in Will’s mind. It was so distant and faint, as a dream he had forgotten over the hours of being awake. He did not think of Molly, he did not think of Walter, and he did not even think of his dogs. They were all safe, and they were all going to find their way through life without him. Will was so submerged into Hannibal’s presence that his wife and child were nothing more than mere remote reminiscences of a past life.

“Here we are,” Hannibal told Will, but he looked around and could not see any sort of house or cabin. Confused, he watched Hannibal as he stood on tiptoe and put his hand in a little tree hallow, scrambling around. He pulled out a small and rusty key. Will tried to look around once more, in case he missed it, but he still wasn’t able to see where the place Hannibal had taken them to could have been.

Hannibal kneeled down and started digging up with his hands, throwing leaves and branches aside. Will was muddled, but he figured it out as he approached Hannibal.

“I haven’t visited this place since it’s been built. Never had to,” Hannibal explained. “I don’t fancy this sort of hideout, but this is an emergency,” he continued, casting a glance on Will’s chest wound. 

Will helped Hannibal dig up, and after a short while they uncovered a metal hatch. Hannibal put the rusty key in the padlock and twisted it around a few times until it made a clicking sound. He took the key out and pulled the heavy door open.

“Wait here a moment until I turn the lights on.” he requested, and Will nodded in agreement. Hannibal entered the hatch, and Will heard his footsteps on what sounded like a metal ladder. The footsteps stopped, and a yellow-orange bright light came out from the hatch shortly after.

Will entered the hatch too, and stepped carefully on the ladder, as Hannibal grabbed his arm, helping him climb down. Once he reached the floor, Will looked up and saw a narrow patch of dark sky, pierced by the shiny spots of stars.

 _“From heaven all the way to the center of the earth._ ”


	3. Non omnis moriar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal arrive at their hideout and tend their injuries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No depictions of violence as of yet, but explicit descriptions of medical procedures. If you're squeamish about blood and all these related topics, please proceed with caution.

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_non omnis moriar_

_I shall not die wholly_

_Song:<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UtQpSGyPCBE>_

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“From heaven all the way to the center of the Earth,” Will murmured, raptured by the beauty of the night sky as seen through the open hatch door. He saw eternity in the white light of stars. He saw the beauty of the cosmos stirring through darkness, the ever-changing eternal beauty unfolding so far away from his reach.

“As above, so below,” Hannibal responded. There was a similarly thrilling beauty on Earth too – beauty that he and Will had the rare chance of seeing, of feeling.   

Will turned around and stared along the hallway, wrapped up in a mixture of warm light and barren darkness, and Hannibal climbed the ladder to close the hatch door. He locked it with the key and then came back to Will.

“Locked down at the center of the Earth. Nobody will bother us here.” he informed, adding a faint and tired smile. In comparison with his cell at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, that hideout was a palace of luxury. He had copies of his favorite books there, a gramophone and records of hand-picked melodies, fitting and elegant clothes, a large bathroom with all modern facilities, but all of these were aspects he could have dispensed of. Indignity, as Alana Bloom had wrongly assumed, was not what scared him the most. It was separation.

“We have to take care of your wounds now, Will.”

Will was leaning against the wall, feeling weak and lightheaded. The humid and musty air from the underground hideout was making him suffocate. He nodded slightly, and his vision became blurry as he did so. Hannibal noticed Will’s dizziness and grabbed his arm, leading him along the hallway, in a large space that served as living room and kitchen. Every detail was just as Hannibal remembered it. That place was never a part of his memory palace, never until that day, but it was going to become a significant part of it – another room he could share with Will.  

Will’s knees became progressively weaker, until he couldn’t stand on his own anymore, and Hannibal had to drag him on the couch. To Hannibal’s dread, Will started coughing violently and spitting out blood.

“I need you to lie down, Will,” Hannibal said, as he lifted Will’s legs and gently pushed him down onto the couch. “Will you count to one hundred for me, please?” he asked, feeling Will’s forehead with the back of his hand.

Will heard him, but couldn’t make much sense out of his words. Everything was spinning around, and the ceiling lights were morphing into hundreds of burning suns, blinding him. Hannibal repeated his request, and Will obeyed, unquestioning the reasons behind it. He started counting indistinctly. Hannibal wanted to make sure Will would not pass away while he was gone to bring the first aid kid and other necessary medical tools. All rooms were still and quiet, unblemished in years, vacant of human stroke. Hannibal and Will were the first ones to fill the space up with their breaths, their voices, their touch. A new space they were going to corrupt together, abuse together and change together. Hannibal could hear Will’s incomprehensible mumbling like a ghostly presence as he was rushing to save Will once again that day.

He gathered everything he found useful and brought it all to the living room. Hannibal always had much more than the basic first aid kid in all of his residences and hideouts. He put a thick woolen blanket over Will, and cut a hole in it so that the area of the injury was exposed. He quickly washed and disinfected his hands with soap and sanitary alcohol, and then he put on a pair of blue latex gloves. The strong smell made Will feel a little bit more awake, and he continued his counting.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any anesthetic here, so this might sting a little,” Hannibal said, cleaning Will’s wound with a sterile gauze and warm water. Will clenched every time the gauze was touching his skin, but he was awake enough to realize it was only the beginning.

It was the first lie Hannibal told Will that day. He had enough anesthetic there, but simply did not want to use it on Will. He wanted Will to remain awake and experience the pain consciously. It was a purifying experience he wanted him to go through. The wolf could change its coat, but not its disposition. “ _Non omnis moriar_.” he thought. “Not all of me shall die.” Hannibal might die and be reborn, but parts of him would always remain the same and stick to him from one life to another.

Without any further prevention, Hannibal pushed his index finger through Will’s open would, making him let out a loud moan and struggle in pain.

“I know this hurts, but it will be much better if you just stayed still.”

Will complied, grinding his teeth and squeezing the blanket in his clenched fists. Hannibal continued pushing his finger firmly, through layers of muscles, careful not to damage any nerves or blood vessels, until he reached the thoracic cavity. It was warm inside Will’s body, and blood was coming out of his wound and dripping down along his chest, staining the blanket and sofa. Hannibal could almost feel the copper taste of Will’s blood in his mouth. He swallowed.

The air accumulated in Will’s thorax escaped beside Hannibal’s finger, making a short hissing sound. He took the forceps with the other hand and enlarged the wound’s opening, making Will groan in pain again. Hannibal enjoyed the horrendous beauty of pain arching through Will’s tense body. In that moment of weakness, Will was his prey – prey that he could either kill or save. The power of holding that decision was a privilege for Hannibal, a psychically intimate experience, satisfying his primal needs.

With the free hand, he took a chest tube connected to a small drainage pump. He positioned it at the entrance of Will’s wound and took a moment to watch the way his facial features would change when he was in pain, the way he would frown, a small ridge forming between his eyebrows, the way he would bite his chapped lips, as a cold layer of sweat was damping his skin, making his hair stick down on his forehead.  

“I will count to three and then insert the chest tube. Are you ready?"

Will nodded and Hannibal started counting out loud, but pushed the tube firmly as soon as he reached “two”, making Will gasp.

“You said you’d count to three,” he complained, still shaking agonizingly.

“Anticipating pain is worse than feeling it.” Hannibal was calm, his voice was endearing, and his hands were steady. Every now and then his own injury would send throbbing shivers through his body, but he chose to ignore it, and instead focus on Will.

After he finished pushing the tube all the way down to Will’s thoracic cavity, he sutured the wound tightly around it, with precise and cautious movements, and cleaned the residue blood from Will’s chest. Will was safe again for the moment, and Hannibal felt more relieved than he would have liked to admit to himself.  

“Now about this one…” Hannibal said, gently touching the injury on Will’s cheek with the tips of his fingers.

It was less of a challenge for Hannibal. He cleaned and stitched it with ease, stopping and watching Will every time he would whimper in pain. Before he finished, he had asked Will to open his mouth, so he could make sure the wound was completely closed from the inside too.

Will opened his mouth yieldingly and Hannibal put his index and middle fingers inside. His movements were deliberate and wary, and Will was startled when Hannibal’s fingers pressed on his tongue, a gagging sound escaping from his throat as Will swallowed involuntarily. He opened his eyes and met Hannibal’s burning gaze fixed upon him, which made Will realize just how much Hannibal enjoyed the whole situation of getting to have control over Will’s body. It was all a game for him, as it has always been – a game that could be played by two. Will closed his mouth, trapping Hannibal’s two fingers inside, and making him have to slowly pull them out from his locked lips. They watched each other for a few more moments before Hannibal broke the eye contact.

“Good as new,” he joked, and Will mimicked a smile. “I will give you a shot of antibiotics and something to help ease the pain now,” he continued, preparing a syringe. He injected Will in his arm twice, with two different substances. After a few moments, Will started feeling his body relax and the pain slowly drift away.

Hannibal had started cleaning up when he heard Will call out his name languidly. He turned around and saw him slowly lifting himself on an elbow, his face twitching in pain. He approached Will and sat down on the couch, next to him. Will’s body was warm again, and Hannibal could smell the sweat on his skin and the sweetness of his flesh. Hannibal didn’t ask why Will had called him, and Will didn’t explain it either. They didn’t have to. Hannibal touched the injury along Will’s cheek, to which his body responded with a light shiver.  

“It will leave an ugly scar,” Will said, almost amused by the idea of being marked once again, like Hannibal had marked him a long time ago, in a different life, in a place of darkness and despair that he locked in his mind forever.

“It is a birthmark,” Hannibal said, tilting his head to the side and letting his hand slip from Will’s face down his neck and to his shoulder.

A birthmark. A physical remnant from a past life that would always be there to remind him how he died, and how he was reborn. Will sighed and closed his eyes, throwing his head back on the couch. His whole body felt numb, and his eyelids were heavy. The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was Hannibal’s face in the warm orange light and a fuzzy feeling of comfort.

Will drifted away in a deep and dreamless sleep, and Hannibal could finally tend his own wound. He cleaned and stitched it up, standing between two large mirrors, and injected himself with antibiotics and anti-inflammatory drugs too. When he entered the bathroom, he felt the cold tiles under his bare feet, and for a moment he remembered the raging waters of the Atlantic swallowing him and Will whole. He turned the shower water on, letting it run for a few minutes to warm the bathroom up. Meanwhile, he went to the living room to check up on Will. He was fast asleep under the blanket, lying on his back, with an arm hanging down from the couch. Hannibal couldn’t help but smile at the image of Will peacefully sleeping like a child after a long and tiring day.

After finishing his warm shower, Hannibal put fresh clothes on – a sweater and pajamas pants, and then checked if the hatch door was locked. It was, he clearly remembered locking it, but the threat of a “what if” kept bugging him. Instead of going to bedroom, he dragged an armchair next to the couch Will was sleeping on, and decided to guard over him. He watched as Will’s chest was slowly moving up and down under the blanket, with a regular and steady pulse.

His own exhaustion overwhelmed Hannibal, and after a few minutes of dozing off, he fell asleep   deeply as well. Will woke up only once and started mumbling something intelligible. Hannibal brought him a glass of water, and helped him drink by holding his head at the back of his neck. Will took a few sips, and then collapsed on the couch and fell back asleep instantly.

That terribly long day was finally coming to an end, and Hannibal couldn’t be more satisfied with the outcome and with the shape of things to come. After years of chasing, deceiving and manipulating each other, they were finally on the same side and ready to face the world. Their life together was only at the beginning, and there were infinite possibilities of how it could unfold.


	4. Missa pro defunctis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes up to the smell of Hannibal's cooking. They share a meal, intimate thoughts, and a few awkward moments too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if there are any mistakes or typos; this chapter was not beta-read. Just let me know if you spot any and I'll make sure to fix them. Your feedback and criticism is always welcome, so feel free to share your opinions. Thank you and I hope you'll enjoy! :)

\----------------------------------------------------------------

missa pro defunctis

religious ceremony for the dead

Song: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w743skBk09g>

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A balmy breeze was blowing, making the golden leaves rattle in the mild air of autumn dawn. The sun was hiding low, behind the horizon line, slowly lifting its resplendent halo into the clear blue sky. The river was quiet and serene, embracing Will Graham’s numb feet with its tepid waves, and passing him by with rippling sounds – always moving, always changing.

“You are changed too,” he heard Hannibal whisper from within his mind, his hauntingly deep voice reverberating against the inner walls of Will’s skull.

“Same river, same course.”

“But filled with different waters.”

“You’re the same water.” Dark, muddy, thick water – soil melting in spilled blood. “Just filling up different banks.”

With eyes already closed and heavy eyelids, he listened to the symphonic rustle of nature blossoming all around. It was the same old song. A song older than Will, older than Hannibal, older than the human kind, and older than the Earth itself. The song of stubborn matter enduring existence and pure probability lurking in-between happenings.  

A savory aroma of roasted meat and red wine coiled around Will, dragging him out of the palace of his mind. He felt as if he was falling, surrendering all over again, lowering himself through thin air until his body collapsed on the couch. On Hannibal’s couch.

When he first opened his eyes he couldn’t see anything but the blurry surface of a gray ceiling and the foggy orbs of orange light. After a few slow and heavy blinks, his vision became clearer, and Will felt pinned down by a harrowing headache. His throat was dry and sore, and his body ached all over. The same delicious smell of roasted meat waded through the room, making Will turn his head to the side to see where it was coming from. He noticed that he was wearing pajamas pants, an unbuttoned shirt, and socks. It wasn’t the first time Hannibal had changed Will’s clothes while he was unconscious, and Will had a hunch that it wasn’t going to be the last time either. But that one time it felt appropriate. Will didn’t feel uneasy as if his private space had been violated. He felt Hannibal’s care and affection lingering over his gesture.

Hannibal was cooking in the kitchen area of the room. Seeing that Will had woken up, he interrupted himself and greeted him with a friendly smile.

“Hello, Will. How are you feeling?” he asked, walking past the cooking bench and approaching him. He was wearing a dark green sweater and loose black pants, covered by a clean white apron. It was the same Hannibal Will had always known, with his elegant posture and confident demeanor, only slightly more casual, but certainly not lacking in a very specific refinement.

“Like I’ve been sleeping for years,” Will answered under his breath, trying to lift himself vertically, and Hannibal helped him do so and rearranged his pillow. 

“I’m glad to see you managed to pull yourself out of the shadows of slumber.”

“I’m not so sure it was ever my intention.”

“Heedful suffering is always better than blind oblivion. And quite effective in strengthening our limits too.”

“I’ve done enough of limits-pushing and boundaries-violating for a lifetime.”

Will frowned and rubbed his forehead. He could feel the sore muscles of his body contract in painful spasms as the headache was getting worse.

“Then this is not a violation of any of your previously established boundaries I assume.”

“No, this is…”-he paused, trying to find the perfect word to describe the way he felt about leaving everything behind and starting out a new life with Hannibal-“This is closure. Everything that happens after this point is extra. Every second that passes is a flown figment of shared madness, something that should never exist.”

“And yet it does. And yet here we are in a reality of our very own.”

“Yes. And it feels… good.”

Hannibal’s slim lips curved in an affable smile, creating wrinkles around the corner of his narrowing eyes.

“It is good, Will. It is good to be here with you, in a world of our imagination.”        

The two men shared a brief moment of contemplating each other, and contemplating what they were together, until the meat Hannibal was cooking made a sizzling sound which dragged them out of their meditative state.

“ _Cocotte de lapin au vin rouge_ ,” Hannibal explained, rushing to the oven. “With roasted mushrooms.”

“Rabbit and mushrooms? Did you go out to pick mushrooms and hunt rabbits?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Exposing both of us to the risk of being discovered,” Will scolded.

Hannibal stopped, scrutinizing Will with an almost insulted look on his face.

“I afforded this calculated risk. I couldn’t have served you beans and pasta, Will. Our first meal now is highly important.”

“How is this meal more important to you than any other?”

“We will eat to honor the dead men who once were us. It’s a spiritual ceremony which deserves a fresh sacrifice of flesh and blood.”

Flesh and blood, a bodily sacrifice they didn’t make.

“And you chose rabbit for this?”

“I would have preferred a different kind of meat, but rabbit will have to do.”

“For now,” Will added, making Hannibal smile knowingly at the other’s intimate understanding of his own thoughts.

Hannibal served Will his food by carefully placing a tray on his lap and helping him sit upright comfortably enough to eat. He a small wooden table next to the couch Will was sitting on, and they ate their meals together in sober and solemn silence.

“How do I know the mushrooms are not the poisonous kind?” Will asked, with an ironic and half-serious smile spreading across his face.

“You don’t,” Hannibal answered shortly. “But ask yourself if I would bring you here just to poison you.”

“No, not just poison me. To poison me and watch me die. You’d get high on that.”

“I have to admit that if I were to choose the way you die, Will, I’d rather you died by my hand.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Will confessed after a few moments of judgement.

“Poisoning is a particular form of murder by proxy that I cannot condone. It lacks the thrill of a struggle.”

“I’m afraid I’m not in the best shape to offer you the thrill of a good struggle right now.”

Hannibal laughed slightly, and Will joined him in a moment of humorous shared delight.

They both thought about the lives they left behind, about the sacrifices that were made, about the changes, the possibilities, the improbabilities, the likeliness, the impossible and the very possible. The only palpable conclusion was their death – a figurative death for the two of them and a death that had to remain literal for everyone else. Everything beyond that point was a mass of fluid strings of infinity tangling around themselves.

“Compromise hurts the most,” Will found himself saying, as a continuation of his thought and of Hannibal’s own thoughts as well.

“Compromise is what makes us human. We would all be mighty gods if we never had to make compromises.”

Will went silent, so Hannibal continued talking.

“But I would like to remind you that you always have a choice. Will you avoid the compromise?”

“No. It’s an unavoidable give-and-take game.”

“ _Quid pro quo._ What did you give, Will?”

“My whole life,” Will responded melancholically. “Molly, Walter, the dogs, my house. All the walls I’ve been trying to build up during the past three years have fallen down now. I could try to rebuild… but there’s something so liberating about walking past the ruins.”

“And so did I,” Hannibal assured. “Gave up on my own life too.”

“No,” Will bitterly disagreed. “You merely adapted. In a way or another, you’ve always been on the run. _This_ is your life.”

Hannibal didn’t try to argue with that. Will was right – he found the life style very entertaining, and giving up on his freedom for Will was nothing but another mean of assuming control over his own fate.

“Are the sacrifices you have made redeemed by the value of what you took back?”

“I’ve taken the liberty to stop, um, denying myself.”

“ _Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If anyone wants to become my follower, he must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.’_ You have turned your back on God, Will _.”_   

“Only to join him in his deeds.”

“To God and his deeds then,” Hannibal concluded, raising his glass to meet Will’s.

After they had finished eating, Hannibal washed the dishes, and Will realized he had to use the toilet.

“How long do I have to stay like this?” he asked, watching the tube coming out of his chest and connected to the small drainage pump sitting on the floor next to him.

“Just today,” Hannibal answered. “Maybe tomorrow too.”

It was too much for Will to hold back, so he had to reach the toilet somehow.

“Can I… Can I go to the bathroom?” he asked, embarrassed by how much it sounded as if he was asking Hannibal for permission, rather than asking him for help.

“It would be in your best interested not to get up for a while,” Hannibal answered, not appearing to notice Will’s embarrassment, which was both relieving and distressful to Will, in equal degrees.

Hannibal treated the issue seriously, with no trace of irony in his voice or movements. He quickly brought Will an improvised bedpan, and left the room to give him some privacy. After Will had finished, he took the bedpan away to empty it. Will had never imagined before that he would be forced to live out such domestic and private moments with anyone, let alone with Doctor Hannibal Lecter, his former psychiatrist. He was in a moment of weakness and vulnerably that made him feel both ashamed and irked.

Hannibal noticed Will’s distressed and attempted to relieve the pressure by asking him if he would like something to read. Luckily for both of them, Hannibal’s impressive collection of titles included some that appealed to Will as well. They chose a book each and relaxed for the next two hours, as the only sounds audible were the muffled buzzing of the lights and the pages turning, often perfectly synchronized.

It was still early in the evening, but Hannibal started yawning uncontrollably and felt his head heavy. Will agreed that they should sleep, both still in need of resting to heal their wounds.

“Would you like to sleep on bed?” Hannibal asked.

The prospect of being carried by Hannibal and tucked in bed felt strange to Will, almost alien. There was place in their world for that scenario, but he still wasn’t able to imagine how it would unfold.

“No, I’m good,” he replied. “The couch is comfortable, and I don’t take much space.”

“Very well then,” Hannibal said, and Will could swear he picked up a muzzy trace of disappointment in his voice.

Before going to bedroom, Hannibal changed Will’s bandages as they were starting to get soaked with blood, and gave him the antibiotics and painkiller shots. He then did the same for himself, wished Will a good night, and paced towards the bedroom. Just as he was entering, he turned around.

“I will leave the door open in case you need me overnight,” he told Will.

A few minutes later, Hannibal was lying on his back in bed, and Will on the couch. The empty vastness of the living room made Will feel anxious. Eerily shaped shadows were crawling all around, and closing his eyes did not help at all, as he kept having visions of Hannibal’s dead body washing ashore from the ruthless Atlantic. It was difficult to tell reality and hallucinations apart under the veil of darkness. There was no anchor to hold him back, no stepping stone to rest his heavy thoughts on. He felt alone and helpless, devoured by his own imagination and by the vivid images his mind could create.

Not too far away from Will, Hannibal was drowning in dark thoughts of his own when he heard Will’s faint voice calling out his name. He didn’t wait for a second call, as he was sure that Will’s voice was a reality piercing through the darkness and reaching out to him.

“Is everything alright, Will?”

“I don’t know,” Will started speaking with low voice. “I have these… thoughts.”

“Would you like to share your thoughts with me?”

“No, I would rather not.”

Will was avoiding locking his eyes with Hannibal’s, his sight drifting across the walls.

“How may I help you then?”

“Could you just… stay here with me?” Will requested, finally looking Hannibal in the eye. Hannibal nodded in agreement - it was all he wanted for that night as well. He dragged the armchair close to the couch again, and left a dim light on over the night.

“Thank you,” Will whispered.

“It’s my pleasure.”

Will’s hand reached out through the silence of the night and grabbed Hannibal’s, as they both slowly drifted away to peaceful sleep, feeling safe and content, their fingers intertwined, and their souls vibrating to one single heartbeat.


	5. Ad Infinitum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this took me so long to update! My schedule has been hectic, but I'm slowly catching up with life now. 
> 
> Enjoy!

\----------------------------------------------------------------

_ad infinitum_

_without an end or limit_

_Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcihcYEOeic_

\----------------------------------------------------------------

After a deep and dreamless night, the first to wake up in the morning was Will. His senses started perceiving the world around him one by one, uncovering its disguised mysteries. Firstly, he felt the warmth of Hannibal’s hand in his own and his slender fingers pressing against his palm, the other’s warm flesh on his own. Then, he heard the dimmed and continuous buzzing of ceiling lights and the steady breathing of the man sleeping next to him. Hannibal’s distinctive perfume was wrapping around the humid and damp smell of the surrounding. When he finally opened his and looked at him, Will felt a sudden wave of heat pumping through his body.

It might have been the medicine, or the pain, or the after-shock trauma that made him go thought the last hours as if he was dreaming and waiting to wake up any moment. But for once, at last, he felt the dream unfolding in front of him take physical shape and become reality. An inescapable and inexorable reality. The man sleeping next to him, the man who spent the night on an armchair because he had asked him to, the man who dragged him out of water and saved his life was no other than Hannibal Lecter. The very same Hannibal Lecter who had killed dozens of people before, but not him, not Will – “ _Just not yet._ ”

It was only then when Will became fully aware that there was no going back, no turning around, no changing direction. It was only then when he realized that the path he and Hannibal started walking on was full of menace and risks and bumps. Strangely enough, the idea of fighting the whole world had never seemed more appealing that when he understood he had Hannibal as his partner. No escape and no running away from Hannibal could do him any more good than running towards him. If fate was real, then perhaps it has always been meant to happen that way. It was already decided, and the plan set in motion. A spin at the center of the universe was twirling around for them to coexist in a twisted version of reality.

_“Maybe that’s just fine.”_

Will dragged his hand out of Hannibal’s grip gently, but the movement – even though so smooth – made Hannibal jolt awake instantly, and Will thought that he had never seen anyone wake up so swiftly before.

“Hey,” he muttered. “Morning.”

Hannibal answered with a smile, his facial features softening.  

Will traced the contour of Hannibal’s face with his fingers, perusing every wrinkle of skin, trying to understand, trying to see behind the façade. Intimacy – especially physical intimacy – has always been difficult for Will. Hannibal has made him step in and out of his comfort zone for a long time, persuading him into a distorted waltz – one step forward, two steps backward.

He stopped at Hannibal’s lips, his fingers barely brushing over them, and Hannibal allowed his exploration to continue, almost child-like in curiosity himself. Will was only able to love fully by engrossment, by absorbing the other’s thoughts and feelings as his own, and he could only know himself through the eyes of the other. Hannibal was already part of him, with roots so deep that trying to pull them out would have only been suicide.

“I have the answer now,” he whispered, bending over Hannibal. “We wouldn’t survive separation.”

Perhaps Will has always known that answer, ever since they saw each other in Florence. It was only a matter of time until he was prepared to accept it. And when he finally did, everything became uncomplicated between them. He has never been on the same side of the veil as Hannibal, because there was no veil between them, and only then Will could see just how wholly Hannibal uncovered himself for him, and him only.

“There is a crippling sense of addiction governing over us,” Hannibal acknowledged. “Will you ever want to go back, Will? To your wife and child?”

A hint of worry. Hannibal’s mention of his wife and child made Will feel disconcerted for a moment, as if it was a profanity to remind him of them, but then he quickly noticed the concern in the other man’s voice.

“Are you afraid I will leave you?” he asked playfully.

“Your happiness is all I want, Will. Much more so if your happiness were by my side.”

“You know better than to use such words, Dr. Lecter.”

Their faces were almost touching, and Will had his hand on the back of Hannibal’s neck.

“Perhaps you will allow me to rephrase then. I want you to feel content and fulfilled with yourself. I believe I am able to offer you the comfort that you need, and it would bring me joy if you granted me the opportunity to do so.”

Eye contact wasn’t easy for Will either, but he still looked into Hannibal’s eyes and he saw that they were not dark and scary; there was nothing evil in them. Hannibal’s eyes were a warm shade of amber and they were deep and calm, much like a burning fire on a cold winter day.

“I am by your side now, Hannibal.”

It was all coming back together. All shreds and pieces, all broken teacups and promises, all lies and empty words and half-truths, stretching across time, backward and forward, all that happened and never did, and might have, and never will – it was all coming back together, in one rapturous moment of sobriety and lucid understanding. More than an adrenaline rush and the feverishness of survival, there was something so deep, sincere, meaningful and natural about it.

Will’s lips covered Hannibal’s, sending warm and shivers through both of their bodies. A breathless moment, two, three, and Will pulled back.

“And I will always be,” he whispered onto Hannibal’s parted lips.

Hannibal rose from his seat and cupped Wil’s head with both of his hands, and Will felt the bitter-sweet softness of his tongue pushing tenderly into his mouth. With his eyes closed, Hannibal rested his forehead on Will’s and smiled, tracing the other’s flavor on his lips with his tongue.

“We will leave today,” Hannibal informed, and even though he tried to control it, his voice still trembled with emotion.

“Go where?” Will’s eyebrows lowered in a slight frown.

“I was thinking France. For a while. I would like to show you Prague, too.”

Hannibal opened his eyes and stared into Will’s, with a mixture of affection and melancholy.

“Hannibal…” Will sounded uneasy. “How do you plan to pull this off?”

“With good Chiyoh’s help. She’s been watching over us.”

Will puffed and let his glance drift away from Hannibal. The latter continued talking.

“She prepared a boat for us. We will leave together and go somewhere safe and secluded.”

“There is nowhere safe for us. Not anymore.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“I take responsibility of your well-being and protection, Will.”

“I do feel protective of you, too.”

“Is this why you pushed both of us off the cliff?”

Will swallowed.

“Yes.”

“And it worked.”

It did work indeed. The alternative would have been risking Hannibal’s life at the hands of the FBI.

* * *

“They will say we are in love,” Hannibal whispered with a downcast, but hopeful smile.

“Guilty of a sin I fully redeem.”

Will placed his hand over Hannibal’s and brushed it softly with his thumb. Hannibal closed his eyes for a moment and waited, and when he opened them again it was all still there. Will was still there, with him.

The air was cold and harsh, and the low rumble of the ocean felt like a tired heart monotonously beating to infinity.

 

_Amoris vulnus idem sanat, qui facit._

_The wounds of love can only be healed by the one who made them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this, and I hope you enjoyed it! :)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still new to writing fanfiction, so your comments and constructive criticism are always welcome. Please let me know if you feel like anyone is out of character, or if you notice any typos / grammar mistakes, etc. Thank you!


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